They were almost halfway when Aemilia stopped abruptly. Rufus halted beside her and tore at his sword with his mind screaming panic. What had she seen that he'd missed? He stood at her side, blade in his right hand, and waited, his ears filled with the sound of his own thundering heart.
Slim, warm fingers clutched at his free hand and held it tight. He turned in surprise to find her staring at him with a look of infinite sadness that scared him as much as anything he'd experienced this terrible day. It was the look of someone who had lost everything but her soul; the look she must have worn on the day when she was taken into bondage as her whole world burned around her.
She reached up to touch his face with the palm of her left hand. When she spoke, her voice was the voice of a child. He realized he'd forgotten how young she was. Somehow the sadness made her even more beautiful.
'Whatever happens, please don't think badly of me, Rufus. Whatever pain you suffer, I will suffer more, and I could not bear it if you hated me. There are times in a person's life when they do not control it; it controls them. Once I thought I could have loved you, as you loved me. But first there was Livia and now there is the Emperor. Even to share a smile would be death.'
He attempted to reply, but his mind was a whirlpool of confusion, thoughts forming and shattering, hopes dashed against the diamondhard certainty of her words.
She put a finger to his lips and said softly: 'You must live your life and I will live mine, whatever that life brings. Promise me.'
He shook his head, still struck mute by confusion and conflicting emotions. He wouldn't allow hope to die, even if it might mean his own death.
She would have spoken again, but the sound of raised voices echoed down the passageway and Rufus stepped protectively in front of her, his sword raised.
'Why can we not wait for my litter bearers? It is unseemly for an Emperor to walk when he can be carried.' Caligula's strident, complaining voice was instantly recognizable, and when Cupido replied his words came back to them clear and strong.
'I am more concerned for your life than I am for your dignity, Caesar. You must keep moving.'
Rufus almost sobbed with relief. Cupido was here. Now they were safe. The gladiator would take charge and his indomitable presence and nerveless courage would see them through. A few seconds before he had been scared of his own shadow, but with Cupido by their side he knew they could overcome any odds. He held the sword tighter. Already it felt more comfortable in his hand.
Two figures appeared at the far end of the shallow curve of the corridor. At first it looked as if they were wrestling, but Rufus quickly realized that one held the other and was hustling him along the passage as fast as he was able.
'Unhand your Emperor, you fool,' Caligula shouted, struggling against Cupido's grip on his toga. 'Mnester was just reaching the climax of Cinyras and I have seen him dance but once. The public expect to see their Emperor at the games and the public will see him.'
'I have told you, great Caesar, and I will tell you again: if we do not reach the palace you will never have the chance to see Mnester dance again because you will be dead. Don't you understand the Scorpions are at our heels? You have been betrayed. My Wolves are too few to hold them for more than a few minutes, and if we do not hurry Rome will not have an Emperor.'
The last words seemed to penetrate the wall of outraged dignity and Caligula allowed himself to be carried along for a few more steps.
'Who?' he asked in a tone of mixed bewilderment and disbelief. 'Who has betrayed Rome?'
'Narcissus will name the conspirators when we reach the palace,' Cupido said. Caligula went rigid and the gladiator knew instantly he had made a mistake.
'Narcissus?' The Emperor's voice was shrill. 'My uncle's pet Greek spy? Why, I have the order for his arrest in my litter. What trickery is this that you drag me to meet my enemy?'
'Cupido!' Rufus cried.
The young German froze, the long sword instantly at the ready. Caligula looked puzzled. 'Why is my slave here when he should be with my elephant?'
Cupido smiled and sheathed his blade. 'They are friends, great Caesar. You need have no fear.'
Rufus sensed Aemilia stiffen at his side. He could feel the tension in her as if they were connected by some physical bond. Finally he realized why her moods had fluctuated so disconcertingly. He cursed himself for an insensitive fool. How could he not have seen it? She was on the cusp of some momentous decision. With every fibre of his spirit he willed her to remain where she was. Where she belonged. At his side. Please, he thought, let her rule her own life. The Fates would have their day, but let it not be this day.
'Caesar!' she cried. And his heart turned to ice.
He watched her run towards the Emperor in her long skirt, the golden tresses of her hair flying free behind her. It was as if the gods had slowed time. Each beat of his heart seemed to take an eternity. Breath became unnecessary. With each step she took he felt her spirit floating away from him. He had to bite his lip to keep from calling her name.
Caligula stood to Cupido's right, hands tugging at the folds of his toga in an attempt to return it to its proper shape. The expression on his face betrayed his bewilderment. It seemed Aemilia's public show of affection was as much a surprise to him as it was to Rufus, and to a clearly mystified Cupido.
The running figure finally reached the Emperor and Rufus felt the first prick of tears as Aemilia took Caligula in a lover's embrace, reaching up to kiss him with her left hand behind his head bringing his lips down to hers.
They were spotlighted in the rays of one of the little square windows and it happened so fast that Rufus at first didn't recognize it for what it was. When Aemilia's right hand came up almost gently towards her lover's cheek there was a vivid flash of purple and green, as if a starling's wing had been caught in the sunlight. In the same instant the Emperor screamed and reared back with one hand to his throat.
Caligula's mind had been busy trying to solve the conundrum presented by the slave he had used so badly who was now declaring her love so publicly, while at the same time being diverted by the sensuous working of her tongue within his mouth. The bee sting at his neck came as a complete surprise.
An instant later he realized it was more than a bee sting and his bowels turned to liquid. It was a razor-edged, death-bringing, invasive thing powered by a strong hand that worked it deep into his flesh. His panic grew and the sting grew with it, turning into a red-hot spike that was being forced through his neck, filling his throat so that he found it difficult to breathe. Aemilia's lips left his and he found himself looking into the crazed light that filled her eyes. She stepped away from him with a smile of satisfaction on her lips.
He reached up with a shaking hand to inspect his neck and flinched as his fingers found the bejewelled hilt of Aemilia's little dagger. His head swam with the enormity of what was happening to him and he swayed and almost collapsed. He tried to speak but all that emerged was a strange gurgling sound. He willed his fingers to grip the knife and with a tug pulled the short blade from his neck, leaving a small-mouthed wound that leaked blood in jerky bursts that stained the shoulder of his toga. Dark, ruby red on pristine white.